This Is What a 'Mindful' Triathlon Looks Like

The event was being touted as a "mindful" triathlon, but I was having trouble avoiding a full blown panic attack.

"I'm running a triathlon today," I boasted on Saturday morning to a guy who I was planning on meeting for drinks that night. Uttering those words, I relished in feeling like the badass athlete I've never been. I also couldn't help but feel guilty, because I was lying—well, half-lying.

In truth, I was doing a triathlon of sorts—only instead of running, biking and swimming I'd be running, doing yoga and meditating as part of Wanderlust 108, an inaugural event put on by the nationwide yoga festival of the same name. Jeff Krasno, who is one of Wanderlust's co-founders, would note that afternoon that they created the running component to "bring people in" who wouldn't normally attend a yoga festival. In my case, it was quite the opposite: The running component was the one thing deterring me from wholeheartedly looking forward to the day.

Held in Brooklyn's Prospect Park, the event was being touted as a "mindful" triathlon, but I was having trouble avoiding a full blown panic attack in anticipation of it. That morning, cursing myself for abandoning my latest attempt at a Couch-to-5k program back in July, the thought of pulling a Karen Smith flickered across my mind. No, 3.1 miles is nothing to freak out about, but I was most definitely freaking out. See, I have never been able to commit to running, even though in theory, I would LOVE to be a runner, because my neuroses tend to go into overdrive: I overanalyze each and every physical grievance I encounter. On the flipside, once I start doing something, the perfectionist in me refuses to let me stop until I see it through to the bitter, sweaty end. This is why I usually just stick to yoga. So in spite of the fact that the Wanderlust website recommended "training" for the 5k by doing things like "make thoughtful decisions," "treat people with kindness," and "maybe run a bit," I felt more terrified than zen as I rode the G to Prospect Park.

Upon entering the park, checking in, and taking a good look around at the nearly 5000 people milling about, I actually started to feel more at ease: The girl near the starting line of the 5k who repeatedly dropped into a perfect split (as her pre-run stretch, I suppose?) wasn't intimidating, but somehow endearing; my fellow "competitors" included crunchy Brooklyn toddlers, loads of jovial twenty-somethings who loudly voiced their plans to walk the whole thing, and even a couple of people like me, alone and slightly uncertain. Before I knew it, I was pressing my hands together in namaste along with thousands of others. There was nothing remotely competitive about this "triathlon." When I finally grasped that, I was able to run those 3.1 miles before I even really had time to think about—or really, overthink—what what I was doing.

Katie Friedman

Katie Friedman

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After the race I listened to an intimate speaker panel that included renowned yoga instructors Elena Brower and Seane Corne, congressman Tim Ryan, former NFL player Keith Mitchell, and Sonima Foundation founder Eddie Stern, who helps bring yoga and meditation to underprivileged communities. And though the conversation touched on everything from yoga for professional athletes to the panelist's muses, I was most struck by the discussion that arose regarding finding mindfulness—my weakness.

"Of course your mind is going to get distracted," said Corne. "Of course you're going to think about everything; of course you're going to feel inadequate and tight. All the different things that will come up inevitably in your mind as you learn how to get still. And when you're in a community and other people can affirm the process, it really is a blessing." She might as well have been talking directly to me. Maybe my challenge was a bit like learning to rub your stomach while you pat your head—I had to figure out how to keep my brain quiet while I kept my legs moving. And if it was going to take a village to get me motivated that morning, then so be it—at least I knew now that it was possible to run for a relatively extended period of time without spontaneously combusting, once I turned off the mental noise. Maybe I'm not entirely the athletic lost cause that I thought I was. (Or maybe I just need to exercise in a large group for the rest of my life.)

Katie Friedman

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When I eventually met up with that guy for drinks, he asked me about my "triathlon." And I didn't even feel guilty when I divulged what it was really about—or for feeling proud of myself for it.

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